Professor Vance's class continued to be a highlight of my week. She dove deeper into the mysteries of the Spatial Cracks, her voice calm and precise amidst holograms of swirling dimensional energy.
"The prevailing theory is that the Cataclysm was not an attack, but a… collision," she explained, manipulating a model of two realms smashing together. "Our dimension and another, brushing against each other. The Cracks are the scar tissue, the points where the fabric of reality is thinnest."
She then moved on to practicalities. "Identifying a Crack's level is the first and most crucial step. Never, under any circumstances, enter a Crack without first scanning it with a certified **Equinine Reader**." She held up a device that looked like a geiger counter crossed with a smartphone. "These measure the dimensional energy output and cross-reference it with the Union database to give you a rank estimation, from F to S. Your life will depend on this little box. Treat it better than your best friend."
I paid close attention, but part of my mind was already racing ahead. This equipment, the training, the constant need for better gear… it all cost a fortune. My silk smoothie diet was already putting a dent in my savings. I needed a revenue stream.
Then, Instructor Borin solved my problem. At the end of Combat Maneuvers, he dropped a bomb.
"Listen up, maggots! Next week is the First-Year Inter-Class Championship! The MMA thingy!" he boomed, as if we could have forgotten the biggest event of the semester. "Seven classes. One winner. The prize for the champion is **50,000 Unions** and your choice of one **B-Rank Customized Equipment** from the academy armory!"
The class erupted. 50,000 Unions was a life-changing amount of money for a student. But the B-Rank equipment was the real prize. My mind flashed back to the market prices I'd seen.
"A B-Rank piece usually costs over 100,000 Unions!" a student whispered behind me, echoing my thoughts. "And customization can double that!"
I was shocked. This second-rate academy was offering a top-tier prize. I'd seen posts from the elite academies where they handed out S-Rank gear like candy, but for us? This was the jackpot. That kind of equipment could massively amplify my abilities. A custom piece designed for a [String Theorist]? The possibilities were endless.
The rest of the week passed in a blur of classes. Professor Petal's lessons were fun, but I didn't discover any new, life-altering food combos. My focus was elsewhere.
I became a ghost in the halls. I trained, I ate my silk smoothies, and I avoided people. Why? Because my classmates were insufferable. The B-Rank bragging had reached a fever pitch with the tournament announcement.
"My father's guild is sponsoring my new A-Rank training sword! Not that I'll need it for this."
"Please, my [Gale Force] technique will blow everyone out of the ring in seconds."
"I heard Class 3 has a guy who awakened as a [Stone Golem]. Literally. He's made of rock."
My ears were constantly bleeding from the sheer volume of their self-importance. I'd just roll my eyes and keep walking, heading to my private gym sessions.
And those sessions were paying off. My new diet and constant training had transformed me. I was no longer the scrawny guy from another world. I could now lift 75kg per arm with clean form. My body was getting defined, muscles etching themselves onto my frame. I wasn't huge, but I was solid. Strong.
The tournament would be a three-day event. All seven first-year classes would participate. And the audience wouldn't just be our peers. The second-year students—the graduating class who would be moving on to their Mastery year—would be watching. Scouting for future guild members, or just looking for easy targets to mock.
The pressure was on. Rumors flew about secret powerhouses in other classes, unknowns who had been hiding their strength. A girl in Class 5 who could phase through objects. A guy in Class 2 with a venomous touch. It was gonna be a circus.
But I wasn't nervous. I was excited.
I stood in my training room, a new, heavier weight in my hand. I focused, and my invisible Silk Shield shimmered faintly around my skin. I had my tricks. I had my upgrades. I had a stomach full of spider-silk spaghetti.
Let the B-Rank snobs brag. They were still trying to figure out my power. They thought I was a telekinetic.
They had no idea what strings could really do.
A slow smile spread across my face. This was going to be fun.